And Really Bad Eggs
by buffyandspikefan
Summary: Set during Curse of the Black Pearl. What really happens when Jack and Elizabeth get drunk on the island? Don't own 'em, so don't sue.


And Really Bad Eggs 

"We're devils, we're blackhearts, we're really bad eggs, drink up me hearties, yo-ho!" Elizabeth and Jack sang, dancing around the fire, bottles of rum in hand, like some kind of drunken tribal ritual. "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirates life for me!"

"I love this song!" Jack exclaimed, practically falling down in his drunken exuberance. He caught Elizabeth by the arm and twirled her around and around, causing her to giggle. "And really bad eggs!" The effects of the rum seemed to take a bit of a toll, and he sunk down to the sand, pulling Elizabeth down with him. "When I get the Pearl back, I'm going to teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time."

"And you'll be positively the most fiercesome pirates in the Spanish Main!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Not just the Spanish Main, luv," Jack said, seriousness coming over him at the mention of his reputation. "But the entire ocean. The entire world."

Elizabeth had started this drunken binge as a way to keep Jack occupied. She had survived this long amongst black-hearted rogues mostly unmolested, and she didn't intend to let down her guard now, even with the relatively handsome scoundrel Jack.

And she also didn't think he'd enjoy the next part of her plan to get them off the island Barbosa had marooned them on. He'd better enjoy the rum while he could, as soon as it was daylight, it was going to be put to better use.

"Wherever we want to go…" Jack continued. "That's what a ship is you know, it's not just a keel and a haul and a deck and sails, what a ship means, what a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is, is freedom." He said the last reaching out, as if he could once again clasp the wheel and sail his beloved out to sea, to places unknown.

Elizabeth understood that feeling, that quest for freedom beyond all else. Much as she loved her father, her home, her place in society, something wild had always resided in her heart. It called out to her in inopportune times and places, and was reflected back in the strangest of people. First Will, all those years ago, when as a child she looked out to the sea and dreamed of living a wild life as a pirate and found a boy-pirate of her own to love, and now a kinship to this strange, off-putting man, with his odd accent and mannerisms, who would sell his soul and anyone else's nearby for a life free of constraints. Who had the darkest eyes, eyes that seemed to see something in her that no one else, not even Will, had ever caught a glimpse of.

"Jack," she said, leaning against him. "It must be very terrible for you to be trapped on this island." An untamed spirit like his must cry out at being confined to one tiny place, surrounded on all sides by waters that could take you anywhere you could dream of.

"Ah, yes," he said, and she felt his hand go on her shoulder. "But the company is infinitely better than last time, and the scenery has definitely improved."

He was overstepping the bounds of propriety and she giggled lightly. The cursed rum, she had drank so he wouldn't notice anything was amiss, was taking its toll on her. She shouldn't let him touch her, but she wasn't exactly moving away from him either. "Mr. Sparrow," she said, trying to sound scandalized, "I'm not entirely sure I've had enough rum to have that kind of talk."

"I know exactly what you mean, luv," he said, running a hand across his moustache.

Elizabeth smiled and held her bottle of rum up. "To freedom."

Jack eyed her bottle, seeing she had drank almost all of it. She saw him noticing and met his eyes boldly. He held his bottle up. "To the Black Pearl." He drank his down, falling backwards with it.

Elizabeth watched him. "My heart belongs to someone, you know."

"Ah yes," Jack said, pulling her down to the sand next to him. "The esteemable Mr. Turner."

"Will is a good man."

"Yes, yes he is," Jack agreed. "A fine man. A fine blacksmith too. I'm sure the governor's daughter would do well to marry up with a smitty."

Elizabeth frowned. "There is nothing wrong with being a blacksmith! It's an honorable profession, unlike being a pirate."

"You're right, there is no honor in being a pirate," Jack said. "We roam the seas, pillaging and pilfering, never staying in one port, drifting wherever we see fit, seeing the world…" he eyed her. "Much better to stay in Port Royal all your life, tied down forever to a sword-maker with a passel of brats."

His words hit home, and Elizabeth took another drawl on the rum. Much as she cared for Will, and she had ever since she was a child, was that the life she wanted? Was she ready to have what little freedom she currently had to be taken away by the duties of a wife and a mother? A wife, even the wife of a poor blacksmith, would have a household to manage and children would be inevitable. There would be no grand adventures then.

Jack smiled, the firelight reflecting off of his gold tooth. "Or is the Commodore you be wanting then? A fine commander, he is. He'd be a match your father would approve of, I'd wager. Though I must say, I don't know about the wig. Seems rather odd to wear hair on top of your own. Unless he has none under there."

"He does!" Elizabeth said sharply. "Fine dark hair that's a lot cleaner than yours, I'd wager."

He smiled another knowing smile at her as she drank down the rest of the rum. "So you have your pick. The honorable, but poor Mr. Turner, and the strapping young Commander Norrington whom your father would choose. You say you've given your heart to someone all ready, darling," he said, leaning in so close she could smell the rum on his breath. "But does your heart desire to be captive by another, or does it want freedom?"

Words failed Elizabeth, and she stared at the pirate, her mind drunkenly racing.

"I know which way my compass points, luv," he said softly. "Do you?"

Elizabeth glared at him, hating the way he made her feel, made her question everything her rational mind said it wanted. "You…" she couldn't think of anything terrible enough to call him. "You pirate!"

He grinned at her. "That's right. And there's something about us pirates that you're forgetting."

"And what's that?" Elizabeth said, her heart suddenly racing.

"We take what we want," he said, grabbing her roughly by the hair and pressing his lips to hers. Elizabeth pushed against his shoulders, trying to fight him off. His mouth worked hers open, tongue meeting hers. He tasted like rum and smoke and Elizabeth found that her hands were no longer attempting to push him away, but clutching at his shirt. He pressed her back into the sand, rolling on top of her, his hair ornaments clinking together as he did so. Elizabeth kissed him back, the slow burn of lust, however inappropriate it was, mixing with the rum and taking away any rational thought. He might have been a thieving, backstabbing scoundrel, but he knew how to kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her.

He slid a hand down to her breast, and she let out a slight moan into his mouth, the warmth from his hand penetrating through the thinness of her shift. She was doing something crazy, letting him touch her in a way no man, not even Will who held sway on her heart had, and she should be stopping it, and yet she wasn't. The siren call of wildness and freedom echoed in his touch, and she was giving into it.

His mouth worked its way down her throat, to her collarbone, and to where her shift exposed part of her breasts. Elizabeth gasped. "Jack!"

"Hush, luv, and worry about propriety later."

Properity. Proper, well brought up young ladies did not drink rum and let bad, wicked pirates touch them. Or enjoy it quite so thoroughly.

"Jack," she whispered. "Don't stop."

"Trust me darling," he said, moving slowly to kiss her stomach. "You'll always remember this as the night you bed Jack…" he trailed off and quit moving.

Elizabeth lay there in a daze. "Jack?"

The only response was a snore.

Elizabeth groaned and struggled to sit up. He passed out on her! "Bloody rum-soaked pirate!" She shoved him off of her and lay there on the sand. Her head was starting to hurt all ready. "Rum is a vile drink," she said to the night sky.

Jack snored on next to her.


End file.
